


Overtaking

by woodentarantula



Category: Persona 3
Genre: i dont even know what to say about this, you ready for some Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:37:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodentarantula/pseuds/woodentarantula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all so irritating, but they're taking over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtaking

There's vines and tree branches coming in through your window. They crawl across your room and start digging into the drywall.

People keep talking to you. It’s annoying at this point. You don’t ask anymore, they just run up to you and expect you to want to be with them

The greenery has started overtaking your cramped dorm bed, tendrils twining around the headboard, binding it to the mass of nature.

It was fine in the beginning. There was nothing much else to do besides experience people. But why are they so clingy? Why do you have to be their crutch? You didn’t ask to be the chief confident of every person in the damn city.

Blue poppies have lined your mirror, reflecting proudly in the glass. Pink daisies sprout from your pillow case, mimicking the shining colours of the sun set. Columbine, Ruby Port and Crimson Star burst in violent beauty around your desk. Marigolds trace the boards around the door to the hall.

Fathers and mothers, confidence and cowardice, life and death. The same tired tales and you’re so sick of it. Why don’t they talk to each other sometime? They’re all so similar, they could share their hardships and learn from the ones that actually know what to do. You just give the worthless words, you couldn’t possibly help them with any true confidence.

And now there’s creatures. Tiny flying bugs that drone on with the same dull song. Salamanders skitter on the branches. Some small, fluffy things curl together like kittens in the crooks of the still-growing trees. Spiders and many-legged bugs and beetles crawl across the floor, cutting paths over your clothes and shoes.

Why can’t they figure it out themselves? Are they so stupid that they don’t know that all they need is not to give up? That them breathing, being alive at all, is enough? All they need to do is realize that they are living beings, beautiful in their own right, and nothing could ever hurt them?

Grass has coated your floor now. Sapling sprout from the floor boards, threatening to break through the soles of your shoes and tie you to the freshly churned dirt.

You sit down. It might as well be this way. Lying across the dew moistened blades, you rest your limbs, splay your fingers, close your eyes. You’re certain the ceiling has become sky, the warmth of the sun’s fire caressing your face. You let it.


End file.
